Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Price You Pay ❯ Chapter Nineteen ( Chapter 19 )

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The Price You Pay: Chapter Nineteen

Did Bulma honestly think that after spending so much time on Chikyuu, he wouldn't start to become acclimated to their ways and culture?

"You said there were three sides of a bond..." started Bulma.

"Yes," he said, deciding to let it pass. He didn't care if she found him heartless. It was closer to the truth than anything else. "There are three sides, three pillars. We have just completed the first pillar, the mental bond." Still seeing the question on Bulma's face, Vegeta continued. "The second bond is a physical bond, and the third, a spiritual. The third pillar is unlike the other two bonds. It's not created through a ritual. It takes years, even decades, for most mates to even begin to develop a spiritual bond."

"I see," said Bulma in response. That sounded uncannily like love, but she decided not to mention it. Heaven forbid Saiya-jin mating had anything in common with Earth. Love meant that a warrior was capable of compassion. And Vegeta was not the compassionate sort. Freeza had seen to that.

"I don't expect you to understand the complete gravity of all of this, onna," said Vegeta.

Hell, I don't understand it.

Bulma smiled at Vegeta tightly and edged forward. She wrapped her arms around him, not deterred at all by his reaction. She was going to break him of his distaste for Earth customs one way or another.

He must have felt like a brick wall, Vegeta considered as he sat rigidly. It was difficult to get used to the displays of emotion that Bulma participated in regularly. They came upon him so quickly.

"Look, Vegeta, despite what you may think, I'm not dense enough to pretend you're someone you're not.” She pulled away. “And while I may not understand many things about you, I do know that you are first and foremost a Saiya-jin warrior." Vegeta felt a pang of some unknown emotion.

She imagined what it would be like to love this impossible man. The prospect of it wasn't completely unappealing.

Vegeta was the most dominant and confident man she'd ever met. Granted, his eyes were always shadowed, hiding thoughts that she was sure would terrify her. She wasn't ready to deal with everything he must have experienced while serving Freeza, but over the past few months he had slowly let her in, slowly let her see some part of the real him behind the harsh words and fleeting glares. The Saiya-jin no Ouji—the prince without a destiny.

The tension was still building in the air. Confessionals had never been Bulma's strongest suit and she always felt uncomfortable after having a 'heart to brutal Saiya-jin warrior' talk with Vegeta. At least there was some humanity behind Vegeta's hooded eyes and demeanor.

He stared at her, the emotions flitting across his face only briefly. These cracks in stoicism were unlike him.

"The next bond," started Vegeta, shaking Bulma out of her reverie, "is physical, although this may be more painful than you expect." Bulma's heart started racing. Of course she knew what the word 'physical' implied, but she found herself curiously self-conscious at the idea. Despite what the tabloids said, Yamcha had been the only man she'd ever given herself to and that was only after years of courtship.

"On Vegeta-sei, bonded couples were not forced to publicly announce their union, they didn't have to."

Back to the history lesson.

“Namely because this part of the ritual requires that both mates accept the bond by creating a mark. In our case, it will be the sign of the Royal House of Vegeta-sei.” He motioned to the symbol stitched into his breastplate.

Oh, she thought, taken aback. This, she wasn't expecting. And, obviously, Vegeta didn't intend for her to use a branding iron.

"Give me a moment, onna. I know you have many questions," Vegeta gloated, enjoying the idea that for once Bulma was out of her depths. He was resorting to being an ass. She couldn't expect him to be nice forever, she supposed. "You and I share a mutual energy created by the opposite charge that exists between us. Those charges are strong enough to create the mark if focused properly."

"I understand," Bulma said before Vegeta had a chance to doubt her competence. He really could be a prick sometimes. She smiled.

"Alright,” he said as if it were the easiest thing in the world, “then do as I say." Vegeta turned away and pulled the formal breastplate over his head. It fell to the ground with a clank and Bulma watched as Vegeta removed the upper half of his body suit, exposing the entirety of his back to her. The light from the balcony danced across Vegeta's copper skin, and Bulma's fingers itched to run along its smooth surface.

"Place the palm of your hand directly between my shoulder blades, but do not let it touch the skin. Leave an inch or two of separation."

"Okay," said Bulma when she had done as he said.

"Now, focus all your energy as I had you do before, except just in that tiny area. Form a picture of the crest with your mind and feel the energy move through you to create the pattern. " Bulma closed her eyes and followed his instructions. It was times like these she was grateful for photographic memory.

The energy began to slowly make its way down her arm and toward Vegeta's back. As it crept along, the pull strengthened and Bulma found she had to use more of her energy to keep herself from touching him than to channel the pattern. Bulma released the breath she didn't know she was holding. As if eagerly waiting to be released, a small but intense beam of light escaped her flattened hand, and absorbed into the Saiya-jin's skin.

Vegeta hissed.

It must be painful, thought Bulma dejectedly. She'd seen him bruised and bleeding, nearly to the point of death before, and his impassive mask had never altered.

When Bulma removed her hand she could see the symbol of the House of Vegeta-sei glowing directly between Vegeta's shoulder blades. It was pulsing that strange silvery blue energy she'd seen the night on the balcony. Vegeta still hadn't turned around, but Bulma could hear his labored breathing as she tentatively reached out and touched the symbol she'd created.

~~~~~~~<(((((|||)))))>~~~~~~~

The burning sensation that accompanied the energy Bulma released wasn't the most painful thing about the whole experience. What had been painful was the feeling of the pull against his skin as their energies brushed, but were never fully allowed to touch each other.

The coolness of Bulma's palm deeply contrasted the heat radiating from the burn on Vegeta's back. The contact was soothing, but startling. He was supremely aware the small yet steady pulse coming from Bulma's hand.

"Are you ready?" asked Vegeta. His voice was hoarse with pain, strained self control, and something like emotion.

Some traitorous voice whispered in his mind that she wasn't. She never would be. Vegeta let the self-doubt clouding his mind slip away. She would do this, not just because she had to, but maybe because some part of her wanted him. Vegeta stopped letting his thoughts wander, the Saiya-jin no Ouji should not have to doubt the loyalty of his mate. He shouldn't have to doubt anyone.

"As ready as I'll ever be," said Bulma with a resigned tone of voice.

"Alright then." Bulma started to swap positions with Vegeta.

It's not like she could refuse anyway. It would kill us. The pain would be too overwhelming.

Because that was much better. She was doing this because it was less painful than the alternative. He grunted. Her reasons didn't matter. Where was all this self-doubt coming from? Besides, Bulma's never did anything just because she was forced. She thrived on resisting opposing forces.

Bulma reached back and tentatively pulled at the zipper that extended from the neck of the body suit down to the middle of her back. She removed her arms from the sleeves and pressed the material against her breasts with her arms. She wanted to feel as unexposed as possible.

Staring at her pale back, Vegeta realized how fragile she looked. Her frame was tiny in comparison to his. Her shoulder blades poked out at him accusingly and she glowed an eerie pearl color in the moonlight—almost bluish. Some of Bulma's damp hair lost its place and fell down her back. Vegeta smoothed the hair to the side, gently trailing his fingers along her bare skin. Bulma didn't move.

Might as well get on with it, thought Vegeta.

He placed his hand a few inches away from Bulma's exposed shoulder blades and summoned the energy.

Bulma let out a very Saiya-jin hiss.

She's stronger than I thought, Vegeta commented to himself and mentally commended Bulma. The pain she was feeling was difficult to bear. It had been difficult for him to bear, and that was something. He'd had countless years of training in Freeza's army—more than enough to teach him how to overcome obstacles like pain.